Hello
by TexasDreamer01
Summary: She jumped off her horse, leather-clad feet hitting the stone with a soft tap, "Well, well, what do we have here? Have I missed the party?" Casteshipping, genderbent Thief King Bakura.


She jumped off her horse, leather-clad feet hitting the stone with a soft tap, "Well, well, what do we have here? Have I missed the _party_?"

There was an outraged murmur from the priests. With a smirk, Bakura tossed her prize on the ground in front of her, relishing in the disbelief emanating from the others in the room. Chaos descended shortly after that, and it was with no small amount of pleasure that she cackled as she summoned Diabound, challenging each of the priests in a mocking tone dripping with faux sweetness.

In the back of her mind, the thief wondered where the pharaoh was. He was the objective, of course, and she called out at the priests, deliberately scornful. "Where is Mr King, huh? Is he too scared to face me, using all of you as shield instead?"

Before any of the priests could do more than sputter at her in shock, and deep voice shouted, ringing with authority.

"Enough!"

Like water, the pitiful excuse for a Sacred Court parted. A witty remark died on her lips as her brain abruptly fizzled, the heavily-adorned man stalking toward her with a dark look _seriously _capturing her attention.

Diabound rumbled in confusion, sensing his master's thoughts. She flapped a hand at him absently, ignoring the reactions of the others in the room - barring the pharaoh, of course.

"Gods above," Bakura swore softly, gaping openly at the man's confused expression, "He's _cute_."

The throne room appeared to be just quiet enough for her words to carry, unfortunately. The Pharaoh's confused look deepened, and it was all she could do not to groan in frustration. How the hell was she supposed to wreck vengeance on him if he kept looking that damned attractive?

"I beg your pardon?"

His rumbling voice was going to be the death of her, she thought in disgruntlement, making an abrupt decision.

Bakura thrust her hand out, gesturing for him to take the rope that was attached to the mummified form of his father. When all he did was look at her with distrust, she rolled her eyes and swung the body with a short jerk. It skittered toward the man - whom she now noticed was about half a head shorter than her - and she nearly laughed when he stepped back to avoid being bowled over.

Her spirit monster gestured toward the pharaoh in confusion, giving another rumble. She shook her head, jumping back on the horse, "Nope. I am not dealing with this."

She felt a warning tingle at the back of her mind, pressing at her conscious with angry thoughts. A shout from one of the priests drew everyone's attention, the Ring on his chest jingling wildly with a bright glow before the small pendants pointed straight at her.

The priest was yanked toward her and Pharaoh by his neck, everyone understandably confused when she looked straight at the object and gave it a pointed "_No_."

It seemed to almost chitter at her in frustration, its jingling conveying a scornful monologue. Bakura knew precisely what was being ranted at her, the people of her village lecturing her through the object - since they could not pass the palace wards otherwise. When they were silenced by the mental bellow of Zorc, she raised a hand to her temple to stave off the pounding headache the mental intrustion was giving her.

The wide-eyed looks of the priests and Pharaoh were not helping the situation. _Could you not be attractive for a second?_ She mentally begged the man.

"Look," she retorted flatly, pointing at the man she was attempting to ignore (with futile results, she admitted to herself), "I am not fucking with him."

After a pause, she amended her statement, "Troubling him, no. Outright fucking, yes."

This time the man did splutter, kohl-rimmed eyes seeming to grow even wider at her admission as his face heated with a blush. She couldn't help but smirk at this, winking at him for effect. The fact that his face only grew redder was like an extra helping of honey on a cake.

She turned her attention back to the object currently attempting to murder the attached priest by getting closer to her. When the bitching grew more agitated, she held up a hand to silence the annoying protests.

"Fine," she replied, ignoring the slightly fearful look on everyone's faces as she looked at the pharaoh with an unamused look, relaying the information in a bland tone, "All of your Items are made from the people of my village. It's your father's fault."

"You lie."

"Oh?" Bakura said, in a tone that was entirely too sweet, "Why do you think all of you have such power over the souls from the criminals you extract them from? And don't give me that bullshit of them being holy objects. They're not."

When the pharaoh growled at her in a menacing tone, she merely jerked her head over to the priest next to him. The man was suspiciously silent, and a quiet murmur from Pharaoh was enough to incite a hushed conversation. Quick gestures were made, a few words floating over to her.

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when the pharaoh jerked back with a distraught look on his face, a glance cast back toward the priests still congregated in front of the throne itself. An old man stepped forward, the golden eye a glaring addition to his worn features.

"My Pharaoh," he began, looking appropriately contrite as he addressed the wild-haired man, "Do not blame your father. It was I that went to the village; he was unaware of the origins until just before his death. Indeed, it was his heartbreak at the news that killed him."

She arched a brow at this, considering the new information. It made sense, she supposed, for the previous pharaoh seemed entirely too innocent to the background of the glittering pyramid he wore around his neck whenever he spoke to the public.

A surprisingly sombre conversation followed the admission, and the pharaoh turned toward her with a grave look on his face.

"You were the one that came with this news," he stated, giving her a sorrowful but firm look that decidedly twisted her heart, "What is it that you wish to be done?"

Bakura blinked. Even the Items were quiet at his words, and she couldn't have imagined in a thousand years that she would actually be handed the decision in a situation like this. After a pause, she replied.

"I wish for the Items to be destroyed. My family is already dead, but they need to be put to rest."

The pharaoh nodded in agreement, making a pleased sound, "It shall be done. Akunadin, since you were the one that created these Items, it is your duty to destroy them. That shall be your only responsibility until you are finished."

Said priest bowed, making his way out of the throne room. There was a sort of unruffled tension, and she waited impatiently as the rest of the priests were dismissed. It seemed almost surreal, that this issue was resolved with such ease. She had honestly been expecting much more of a fight.

The pharaoh turned toward her when the room was finally emptied. He gave her a considering look, cocking his head to the side a bit.

"You came all this way for that," he murmured, "And yet you stopped yourself from much violence. Why?"

She ducked her head, feeling her face heat. Of all the questions he could have asked...

"Um."

Okay, so it wasn't an intelligent response. And from the look on the man's face, he knew it, too. A smirk curved his lips suddenly, and he walked around the mummified body at his feet, standing close enough to her that she could feel the heat emanating from his body.

"Or was that flirting just for show?"

The smug bastard was enjoying this, dammit. He had her cornered and he knew it, looking entirely too much like a cat that just polished off a bowl of cream.

"I don't have time for this," Bakura replied stiffly, twitching the reins to turn the horse. It was more than a little startling when a hand touched her knee and a low chuckle reached her ears.

"But don't you wish to oversee the progress of my priests?" His tone was entirely too innocent, and she swore she saw the gleam of an accepted challenge in his eyes. _Dammit._ "You must be weary, at least let me have a meal prepared for you, in return for handling this situation so well."

... She did promise herself that she would feast in the palace one day. The thief sighed in resignation. Pharaoh had her cornered and he knew it.

"Only if I can stable my horse, too."

"Deal."

Oh boy, was she in trouble.


End file.
